The Broken Angels' Guide to Fighting On
by A Wholocked Vulcan
Summary: A prose-y post-Reichenbach Johnlock AU (classic) to the tune of Rachel Platten's "Fight Song".


**Hi! So this just sort of appeared in my head, and wouldn't go away, so here it is. Post-Reichenbach Johnlock AU (sorry. I have to do at least one if I want to be able to call myself a Johnlock writer), combined with a songfic** **. Also, none of the quotes/conversations are exact. I'm not perfect, dudes! Anywayz, ho** **pe you like it! This is my first songfic, so please review to tell me if you loved it (or hated it)**

 _italics: lyrics_

normal: Sherlock

 **bold: John**

 _ **bold and italics: both**_ **perspectives**

 **Disclaimer: Moffat and Gatis own Sherlock, and Fight Song is owned by Rachel Platten**

 _Like a small boat/_ _On the ocean_

" **SHERLOCK!" He screams, but it won't hold his friend to Saint Bart's rooftop forever. No, the world's only consulting detective is now plummeting through the ashen sky. John is drowning in something that isn't water.**

 _Sending big waves_ / _Into motion_

"Goodbye, John." Goodbye should be enough. He knows this will be worth it. Saving lives -especially John's- is far more important than sentiment. Dismantling Moriarty's network is a much better gift than a few touching syllables. Or an explanation. He hates himself for feeling like he really will hit the pavement.

 _Like how a single word/_ _Can make a heart open_

 ** _he's a hero he's a hero he's a hero why did I let him fall_**

 **John stands among the graves, staring at his dark and broken reflection in Sherlock's tombstone. He speaks to a silent, polished rock and begs his friend to stop. But Sherlock never does as he is told.**

 _I might only have one match/_ _But I can make an explosion/_ _And all those things I didn't say/Were wrecking balls inside my brain_

He watches his friend speak, as still as the trees that hide him. The words make Sherlock warm and cold at once. He feels something totally alien when he sees John weep for the first time. _Good, he believes I'm dead._ But he wanted to protect John from a pain that was different from a bullet wound. _Look at what I've done to him._

He knows he'd be a fool to think John would be satisfied with his "note". He knows he should have said "you're my best friend" or "I'll miss playing the Game with you" or "this was not your fault" or even three stronger words that Sherlock had long ago decided could only end in disaster.

 _why can I never do this right?_ "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock."

 _I will scream them loud tonight/_ _Can you hear my voice this time?/_ _This is my fight song_

 **He wishes Sherlock had heard that stupid speech. Maybe he wouldn't have jumped if he had known.**

 **Nothing will bring him back, so he stops trying. John sheds layers of Sherlock and leaves them behind, out of sight. 221B, Mrs. Hudson, his friends at Scotland Yard. He fills the holes in his heart with work and food and sleep and a woman who reminds him of him.**

 _Take back my life song_

He is doing this so he can come home.

 _Prove I'm alright song_

 **John has clawed his way to the surface. He has mastered the art of okay. He is surviving just fine without him. He just wishes he could remember how to live. He grows a mustache as a substitute.**

 _My power's turned on/_ _Starting right now I'll be strong_

Mycroft tells him to stop. "John Watson shall be your reward, brother mine. To earn him, you have to work a little. Murder, treachery, I would say this sort of holiday is just your cup of tea. Try to enjoy yourself."

Sherlock does. He throws himself into the Game and wins every time. His smart-ass deductions are his fearsome war cry. Whenever the blood surges through his veins it is accompanied by a burst of messy joy.

But it would be so much better if John were here to take part in these exploits.

 _I'll play my fight song/_ _And I don't really care if nobody else believes_

 **He is aquitted today, about two years too late. It is all over the newspapers that had betrayed him months ago. Why did he tell John that he was a fake? _No one believed it, Sherlock. No one who matters._**

 _'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me_

"Mycroft, they exonerated me."

"You still can't go home, brother dear. There are so many dragons to slay where you are, and enough of Moriarty's people to continue posing a threat to your friends."

 _Losing friends and I'm chasing sleep/_ _Everybody's worried about me_

 **Today, John breaks up with Mary. A fancy restaurant doesn't make it hurt any less. He loves her, but he doesn't love her enough. He hates himself for fooling then both for long. It wasn't fair to be with her while he was still in love with a ghost.**

 _I'm in too deep/_ _Say I'm in too deep (in to deep)/_ _And it's been two years/I miss my home_

"Sherlock, sometimes I worry about you." Mycroft's knowing eyes pierce his brother's bloodied skin like briars.

"Obviously not enough to keep me from being beaten to a pulp." Sherlock retorted.

Ignoring this, Mycroft said, "Maybe he won't welcome you back into his life so easily."

"What life? I've been away." Oh, if only that were true.

 _But there's a fire burning in my bones/_ _Still believe_

 **Now he really is alone. John feels wild and hollow inside, a tangled, mangled mess of person. He is a cadaver like the ones Sherlock used to play with. Somehow, he is animated by duty and memories and pride. He wonders when this wicked spell will break.**

 _Yeah I still believe_

 _"_ Of course he still cares about me." Sherlock scowls at his reflection in the mirror, which is looking a little too lost for his taste.

 _And all those things I didn't say/_ _Wrecking balls inside my brain_

 _ **Oh God. Why didn't I tell him while I still had the chance.**_ **Some nights John couldn't breathe because of the weight of the unborn worlds, crumpling him.**

 _I will scream them loud tonight/_ _Can you hear my voice this time?_

Sherlock rests his forehead against the cool glass, staring into those icy green eyes. His shoulders shake, but gently; the man even rules over the parts of himself that are broken.

 _This is my fight song_

 **For the first time in weeks, John has a dream. Sherlock is falling again, but the black bellstaff that billows out behind him turns into a pair of magnificent wings. His curls, spun of midnight, seem like a halo in the sunlight. The detective is now suspended in the sky, and John suddenly knows that he won't ever hit the ground. He looks at John, and smiles that addictive smile. Sherlock stretches out his hand to him, and it isn't very hard for him to take, because he is growing wings as well, white as the clouds which are watching the pair. As the detective takes the doctor in his arms, John hears words that he has never heard before, but seem familiar all the same: _I'm on the side of the angels._**

 _Take back my life song/_ _Prove I'm alright song_

That night Sherlock has a dream of falling and flying and finding his way that even his genius brain cannot remember when he wakes.

 _My power's turned on/_ _Starting right now I'll be strong_

 **Despite -no, because of- the fact that he dreamed of angels and dead men, John takes this dream as a sign of life; something that brings him nothing but a nameless, worldless hope.**

 _I'll play my fight song/_ _And I don't really care if nobody else believes_

He sheds his doubt like a long black coat. _John, I'll be waiting._

 _'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me/_ _A lot of fight left in me_

 **He goes back to 221B because he knows what he's afraid of. Mrs. Hudson greets him with anger and tea. He leaves feeling full of something wonderful.**

 _Like a small boat on the ocean_

Sherlock is going home today.

 _Sending big waves into motion_

 **John has gathered the strength to take himself out to a nice dinner. Table for one, at the same restaurant at which he broke it off with Mary. Only, he found out there really was someone else coming when a man with his coat collar turned up walked through the door.**

 _Like how a single word/_ _Can make a heart open_

"John."

 _I might only have one match/_ _But I can make an explosion_

 **"Sherlock?!"**

 _This is my fight song (Hey!)_

 _Take back my life song (Hey!)_

 _Prove I'm alright song (Hey!)_

 _My powers turned on_

 _Starting right now I'll be strong (I'll be strong)_

 _I'll play might fight song_

 _And I don't really care if nobody else believes_

 ** _They kiss and kiss and kiss, drunk on the miracles they hold in their arms._**

 _'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me_

 ** _As Sherlock points to John's mustache and wonders, "Are you going to keep that?", both men feel a little as though they finally have their wings._**

 _No, I've still got a lot of fight left in me._


End file.
